Such as “Wait, it’s not cool if I walk through the scanner in my chain mail guy.” As an added bonus, be brought his entire family, who also dressed for the occasion by adorning their bodies with scrap metal.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I suppose. But when they show up to the security line as if they’re there for the first time — even though the tags on their luggage tell you otherwise — then I have a problem. That was a fun 30 minutes, watching this dude take off his belt and walk toward the scanner, only to be told he also had to remove his watch, his pocket change, his cell phone. He looked surprised every time, which is to be expected of morons.
Guiding him was another pal, “TSA employee who appears to do next to nothing.” Actually, this particular guy seemed to be a whole new subspecies.
While his colleagues appeared to be doing important work — such as fondling the dude in 13A like he’s a supermarket cantelope — this new character stood around and watched people put their luggage on the belt. That’s it.
Sometimes, he’d sort of do something, like tend to chain mail guy the fifth time he attempted to go through the scanner wearing more metal than Dennis Rodman.
When I went through, TSA guy appeared eager to look busy. He approached as if he were going to tell me to remove the laptop from my bag. When I beat him to the punch, he stood there with a confused look, gestured at my bag, and said “oh good.”
Perhaps this is some junior level position in the TSA. If so, I really hope he one day graduates to feeling up passengers. He looked gentle.
As I walked toward the gate, another old pal came swooping by. Didn’t recognize him at first. But then I heard screeching tires and the faint sound of a grown man saying “beep, beep,” the way you’d think Daria would impersonate a car horn.
Yes, “Reckless Golf Cart Driver” guy was in the house, burning rubber and breaking ankles.
Anyway, I’m at Gate 71, getting on my flight to Tampa. Baseball season is officially here.
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